The Last Time
by Nerdywithoutacause
Summary: Kurt never stopped loving Puck. Puck never stopped wanting Kurt. Boyfriend be damned.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters. Or glee. Though there would be SO much sex if I did. And lots of gay. Everyone would be gay. Accept Mercedes and Sam. I like them as a couple.

**Summary: ** Kurt never stopped loving Puck. Puck never stopped wanting Kurt. Boyfriend be damned. (I don't know how this happened. One minute I'm planning some Orphan! Klaine, the next I'm writing this thing. What the hell?)

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><p>"He'll never be able to do for you, what I do for you." Traitorous eyelashes flutter shut at the low growl, lips brush against the shell of his ear like a devil on his shoulder, whispering beautiful, forbidden promises that can only ever end in disaster. Warm breath floats over the translucent skin of his neck, raising the little hairs all over his body.<p>

"I love him." The deep chuckle vibrates against his back, into his core. There's a flick of a tongue before wet heat engulfs his earlobe, teeth scraping against it just so.

"You love me too." He wishes with all his might that the words hold no truth; that he could scoff and deny the accusation without a hint of guilt.

"He loves _me_." There. There's the silence he predicts. Because that is one thing they have never shared. Mutual love. Not in the way he has always needed.

The arm, hooked around his middle, tightens around him, and brings his back firmly against the wide chest. Warmth seeps into his skin, spreading through his body like an uncontrolled fire. It's hot and destructive, beautiful in the most dangerous of ways, mesmerizing and completely insatiable. "And if I did?" Lips brush against his jaw, the whisper so much like a caress. "If I loved you, what then?"

"Don't." With willpower he didn't know he possessed, he breaks away from the hold, his flesh still tingling from the touch. A large hand finds its way to his shoulder, but he holds his resolve, shaking it off and stepping further away.

"Why the fuck not?" He flinches at the blatant anger lacing the baritone's voice. And while he wants nothing more than to throw himself back into the familiar arms, to sooth the hurt feelings, he can't put himself back into that situation. He knows he won't be able to get back out of it next time.

"Because of the day you tell me that you don't." He could've heard a pin drop. But then he is spun around to meet a far too handsome face. Strong-jaw, full lips, the perfect amount of scruff peppering the tanned skin, and unfairly thick lashes that surround brown eyes with just the slightest bit of green. "It'll hurt too much."

Then with tenderness he has never seen before in the man's eyes, his face is gripped between two strong hands. "You're so stupid, Hummel."

"Noah, what‒" Familiar, firm lips press against his own as one of the hands on his face slide to grasp the back of his neck, fingers threading into the hair there. His adulterous fingers find their way latched around the thick neck, propelling himself forwards to make up the few inches he's lacking on the six foot teen.

A moan catches in the back of his throat as his bottom lip is suddenly sucked into the hot cavern of Puck's mouth. He tastes just like Kurt remembers, like mint and just a hint of smoke that shouldn't be nearly as appealing as it is. Then there are teeth nipping at the captive lip and a tongue slithering in to rub along his. He pushes back against it determined to have some control over the kiss.

It's Kurt's turn to catch Puck's lip between his teeth, sucking wet kisses to his top then bottom lip, teasing. There is an answering growl before he's yanked forward, their teeth smashing together painfully, but so good.

The wall meets Kurt's back all at once. The cold clashes with the blazing heat of Puck's chest pressing into him, rocking forwards, hot, possessive and demanding.

Puck's hands rakes across the smooth plains of Kurt's abdomen, the points of his hips, and down his back until they cup the perfect curve of his ass. Squeezing. Kurt groans, and his head thumps back against the wall, pelvis thrusting up into the body in front of him, needing some kind of friction. Puck's mouth latches onto the spot just below his ear. And _oh_ that is going to be difficult to hide in pants as tight as his. Especially since Puck is thrusting back with‒ _oh. _Okay. Well then. "Wait‒_ah_‒Noah‒_oh, shit‒_stop. Hold on a minute." The eyes staring back at him are dark, piercing, and clouded with lust. His lips are swollen and knowing he did that to him, makes Kurt want to pull him back, strip his clothes off and‒and forget his loving boyfriend and the important conversation he needs to have. "We just…we can't do this. I can't do this. I can't get back into this with you."

Kurt's teeth clamp down on his lip hoping that the pain will be enough to keep his mind off Puck trailing kisses along his jaw. "You can't tell me this isn't what you want." A nip at his ear.

He takes a deep breath, strengthening his resolve. "This isn't what I want, Puckerman." And then he laughs. Downright _laughs_ in Kurt's ear as if he had told some spectacular joke. A hand suddenly cups his straining erection through the tight fabric of his white jeans. "Fuck!" The bang his head makes when it collides with the wall is audible at every corner of the house.

"Your dick says otherwise."

"We disagree on a lot of things. _Oh, fuck shit_!" The hand kneads him, palming him roughly as Puck sucks a bruise into the crook of his neck. Kurt arches into the palm helplessly.

"Tell me Kurt, what was it that you didn't want?" Then the hand is gone, leaving Kurt panting and agitated.

"Shut up, Noah," he growls. Puck grinds himself against his thigh pointedly, neglecting Kurt's aching cock. He has no intention of giving him what he wants, not until Kurt voices it. Admits it to himself and Puck. Instead, he smirks and ghosts the tips of his fingers just under the edge of Kurt's shirt. Goosebumps follow the path of his fingers to the dip of his bellybutton and back down where they tug at the hem of his jeans. The hips thrust up against the hand in vain.

"What do you want, Kurt?" Puck's voice is husky in his ear. Kurt is too far gone to care about the consequences at the moment.

"Just put your fucking hand on my cock and stop your teasing, you son of a bitch!" Puck needs no further invitation. Kurt doesn't get any sort of warning before Puck pops the button open, tugs down the zipper, and shoves the skinny jeans down mid-thigh. Kurt's dick bobs up against his lower abdomen.

"Shit. No underwear?"

"Jeans wouldn't fit," he gasps out as Puck licks a wet stripe across his hand and wraps it around Kurt. He pumps at an achingly slow pace, almost sweet and so out of place that it's baffling. "F-faster, please," he begs, thrusting up into Puck's fist. "I need it."

"Fuck, I love you like this, so hot and begging for it." Puck palms himself harshly through his pants, trying to relieve some pressure. Because Kurt is wreathing against him, panting and moaning in his ear, it's been far too long since they've had this and if he keeps that up Puck swears he'll come in his jeans.

"S-stop. Stop." At Puck's look of complete incredulity, he explains, "Let me help you." Within moments he has Puck's erection free from the denim prison. Kurt slots their bodies together, grinding experimentally against him. Their cocks slide against each other deliciously as they rock, slick with spit and pre-cum.

Their shirts, bunched high on their chests, are troublesome and get removed, slung across the room to some unknown location. It's all so hot, skin against skin, meeting thrust for thrust. God, he's missed this.

"Wrap your legs around me." Kurt obliges all too eagerly and latches one long leg just above his ass. Puck grips the other thigh lifting him completely off the wall and walking him over to the bed. Hands hover over the waistband of the white jeans. A question. "Can I?" He only hesitates for a moment before nodding

When Puck climbs back on the bed he's, oddly enough, still clad in jeans, stretched out beside a very naked Kurt. The blunt tip of an index finger strokes over a smooth, pale cheek, along a strong jaw, before settling over plump, pink lips. They quiver beneath the calloused pad. "Noah?" Barely a whisper.

"Can I just‒ I haven't‒ I want to look at you for minute. Will you let me?" For the first time in Kurt Hummel's life he sees Noah Puckerman unsure of himself, insecure. The realness of him, the humanity, makes his heart pound a little louder, a little heavier in his ears.

"I…yes. Yes." Just like that the atmosphere changes. There are no frantic, sloppy kisses, or jerky thrusts. It's Puck and he's looking at him with intensity he's never seen before, like if he looks away for moment Kurt will vanish into thin air. They've seen each other naked plenty of times before, but something about the look on his face makes Kurt a little self-conscious and he wants to pull a blanket over himself. But Puck had asked and he had agreed so he leaves the blanket at the foot of the bed. Puck's fingers map Kurt's body, stroking down his neck, over his collar bone to stroke over a shoulder. His skin tinges pink with blood rushing to the surface.

Kurt doesn't understand the emotion he is seeing in Puck's eyes. It's not one he has ever seen there before. It makes him nervous. And dizzy. And curious, all at the same time. He wants to know it. Wants to memorize every part of him because even as he lays there he knows it will be the last time. Because Blaine loves him. And he loves Blaine. So fucking much. And though he doesn't want to admit it, he loves Puck. The big, stupid, sexy oaf.

Blaine would do anything for him no questions asked, their eleven months together has told him this. And Kurt would too. Anything, because he loves Blaine more than life itself. And Blaine is so proud to be his boyfriend, so proud to flaunt him around as if being with him is some sort of honor. And Puck, Puck would never do any of those things. The number one person in Puck's life is Puck. Kurt's not bitter though, never was. He has always known what being with Noah Puckerman meant. And of course Puck cares for him, Kurt knows that. And he knew what he was getting into sophomore year, friends with a hell of a lot of benefits. He knew he wouldn't get to walk down the hallway with him hand in hand, despite his obsession with Kurt's cock, Puck is straight, doesn't have any attraction to other boys. Just Kurt. And knew why he needed to break it off once he started to care so much about Blaine. But even with all the things Kurt knows, he fell in love with him. Because he met Puck first. Because there had been no Blaine to fill his heart. There had been Puck: holding him when he cried, comforting him when the bullying got worse, and holding his hand while his father lay unconscious. And so even though he loves Blaine, he can't give his whole heart to him. Because there is still a part that he doesn't have anymore. Puck has it, and as hopeless as it is, he knows he won't ever get it back.

These things he knows. And so he knows this is the last time. Inside he can feel that Puck knows it too, with every stroke of his finger he knows.

Puck's hand wraps back around him, warm and slick, calloused in the right places. Hot eyes stare down at him, fixed on his face. They watch his eyes flutter shut. They watch the shapes his lips make with every moan and cry of pleasure. They fix on his own eyes not letting his gaze drop.

And then they are gone and wet heat envelopes a nipple. He shutters beneath him letting himself fall apart, his head toss, and his heels dig into the mattress. "Noah. I want you." The hand on him stills. Brown eyes meet sea-foam green. Searching. "Please." Puck withdrawals only for a moment to grab a condom, lube, and to rid himself of his clothes, but it feels more like forever. Room temperature is too cold against his skin where Puck's had been pressing into him. He feels the absence like a hand clenching around his heart. But Puck returns, and catches his gaze once more. And unspoken, 'are you sure?' Kurt nods. The distinct pop of a lid then a slick finger circles his entrance before pushing in.

Kurt's eyes squeeze shut as Puck stretches him. It's a mix of pleasure and discomfort, it's been a little over a year since he's bottomed. Then they curl, stroking that spot inside of him and he bucks up against them and _shit_ he's missed this. Why had he ever stopped? By the time Puck pushes in the third finger Kurt is panting, riding them like anything less will end him. And maybe it would. "I'm good, I'm stretched just _please_."

"Kurt, I need to‒"

"I swear this is good. This is what I want. Do it, please. Please, Noah."

When he pushes in, it aches. Puck is big, stretching, filling his body in a way that hurts, but Kurt needs it this way. Needs to feel him pushing against his reserves. Needs to still feel him in the morning when all evidence of this night is wiped clean except for the ache deep in the core of him. And the pain is a small punishment for himself, for what he's doing to everyone with his selfishness. Some small comfort that he isn't getting off completely unscathed.

Puck holds back, resisting the urge to thrust into the clinching muscles. Kurt's face is screwed up in a wince, eyes shut tight, and he wants to give him time to adjust to the intrusion. But Kurt bucks up sheathing him the rest of the way. Puck's face drops into the crook of Kurt's neck with a moan and a curse.

Kurt is in no mood to tender. He needs fast, hard, unforgiving. His legs wrap around Puck's waist, heels pressing just above his ass. "Move."

"You're going to be the fucking death of me, Hummel." Kurt arches into every thrust, giving back exactly what he's getting. Puck's hand reaches down to work Kurt's hard cock until he's wailing and wreathing and fuck he can hardly breathe. His teeth dig into his shoulder for some kind of anchor to reality. Puck is all around, in him. His smell, the taste of him, his warmth, his body. Everything is Puck.

He's not going easy on him anymore, like he knows the importance. He grips Kurt's ankles from around his waist and settles them on his shoulder. And suddenly he's so much bigger and Kurt is sure he's going to split apart because no way can his body handle that. But Puck pistons into him, literally fucking him into the bed, until Kurt's sure that the headboard is going to eventually break through the wall it's been thumping into.

One particularly hard stroke rubs over that glorious place inside him and he positively fucking keens. He's so close, needs to come or he's sure he's going to die. "Noah, I'm so fucking close!"

"I want to watch you, Kurt. Come for me, baby." One last stroke over his prostate and it's over. Kurt's back arches off the bed, jerking and screaming and coming between them. Puck's grip on his hips tightens and he pulls him back on his dick harder as Kurt lies boneless and moaning at the oversensitivity.

Puck knows it's the last time, he's known from the start. And so for the last time he fastens his lips to Kurt's. His tongue ravages his mouth, explores its depths. Kurt's kissing back, thrusting his tongue against the other, giving. Kurt breaks away first biting and sucking just beneath his ear and Puck hopes to God he leaves a mark. Then there is hot breath in his ear. "I love you."

With the last syllable Puck can't hold back anymore, a final thrust and his body surrenders, coming hard into the latex.

They lay there; neither have the strength to pull themselves up, least of all Puck who is lifeless on top of Kurt. And there's really no hurry to do so. Their hearts hurt for the reality of their future, content to soak up each other's warm in hopes that a little piece of them will soak up with it.

Puck doesn't say it back, but Kurt can hear the words in their soft breaths and the creak of the ceiling fan.

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><p><strong>Um. I just got the balls to post that from Tumblr. I've never written porn before. Oops? I'm going to go hide under a rock.<strong>


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